lady would be
disappointed in us both if we dodged our--well,--" he finished with
emphasis,--"our responsibilities."

And after that, somehow, the evening on the porch went as well as the
breakfast and dinner and supper had gone.

It was the second day of their housekeeping that Betty Jo noticed
smoke coming from the stone chimney of the clubhouse up the river. She
reported her observation to Brian when he came in from his work for
dinner. During the afternoon, they both saw boats on the quiet waters of
The Bend, and at supper told each other what they had seen. And in the
evening they together watched the twinkling lights of the clubhouse
windows, and once they heard voices and laughter from somewhere on the
river as though a boating party were making merry.

Two days later, Brian and Betty Jo were just finishing dinner when a
step sounded on the porch, and a man appeared in the open doorway.

The stranger was dressed in the weird and flashy costume considered by
his class to be the proper thing for an outing in the country, and his
face betrayed the sad fact that, while he was mentally, spiritually, and
physically greatly in need of a change from the unclean atmosphere
that had made him what he was, he was incapable of benefiting by more
wholesome conditions of living. He was, in fact, a perfect specimen of
that type of clubman who, in order to enjoy fully the beautiful life of
God's unspoiled world, must needs take with him all of the sordid and
vicious life of that world wherein he is most at home.

With no word of greeting, he said, with that superior air which so many
city folk assume when addressing those who live in the country: "Have
you people any fresh vegetables or eggs to sell?"

Brian and Betty Jo arose, and Brian, stepping forward, said, with a
smile: "No, we have nothing to sell here; but I think our neighbor, Mr.
Warden, just over the hill, would be glad to supply you. Won't you come
in?"

The man stared at Brian, turned an appraising eye on Betty Jo; then
looked curiously about the room.

"I beg your pardon," he said, removing his cap, "I thought, when I
spoke, that you were natives. My name is Green,--Harry Green. There is
a party of us stopping at the clubhouse, up the river, there;--just out
for a bit of a good time, you know. We are from St. Louis,--first time
any of us were ever in the Ozarks,--friends of mine own the clubhouse."

"My name is Burns," returned Brian. "We noticed your boat